


Half-Forged

by inheritanceofgeek



Series: Love Beyond Race [2]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Discrimination, F/M, Halls of Mandos, Mahal is a Dick, Mild Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-16
Updated: 2016-04-16
Packaged: 2018-06-02 16:06:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6572905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inheritanceofgeek/pseuds/inheritanceofgeek
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kendra Amlâkazad Queen Under the Mountain has always had to fight for her right to exist, as people opposed her for the very fact that she was the child of a dwarf and a daughter men. </p><p>For years she fought and proved herself to all those around her that she was better for being a mix of both races.</p><p>The last thing she expected was that she would have to face the same prosecution in the After Life. </p><p>But nothing could ever stop a child of Durin, not even Mahal. </p><p>Sequel to "Waiting"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Half-Forged

**Author's Note:**

> Some people asked for a Sequal to Waiting and so, I present, that Sequel!
> 
> Possibly not the one you wanted, but it's the one I wanted to write so I hope you enjoy it all the same =)

Kendra Amlâkazad, Queen Under the Mountain had had no one to guide her into the halls of Mahal. She had had to make the journey alone, but she'd had to do that a lot in her lifetime. There had never been a ruling queen before in Erebor, and there had been those who had opposed the idea, and those who opposed it further by claiming that only a dwarf could rule under the mountain.

 

Kendra was not a Dam to be messed with. She was stronger of will than any Durin who had come before her, a ferocity she inherited from her mother who yes, Lord Flóki,  _ was _ a daughter of man; King Bard the Dragon Slayer to be precise and if he would like her to give him a demonstration of those skills he was more than welcome to spar with her in the arena. Needless to say, after his acceptance of her challenge, Lord Flóki nor any of the other Dwarf Lords ever tried to test her claim again. So it was with the same determination that she strode away down the dark halls towards a room lit by gentle orange light of a forge.

 

When she reached the room though she found that the door had suddenly been locked. She looked around for a key but could not find one. Thinking it to perhaps be some kind of test, she pulled out a hair pin from the bun on top of her head and began to pick the lock. It was a skill Nori had taught her when she was just a pebble and tried to sneak into the kitchens for more Honey Cakes. With a triumphant smirk she caught the lock and pushed it open.

 

The room resembled the forge her father had taken her to when they went to visit her Grandmother in the Blue Mountains. It was much smaller than the ones at home in Erebor, with none of the decorated grandeur she'd always associated with her father's position as Crowned Prince. He explained to her that they had not always been as lucky as they were now. He'd once been just as poor as the homeless in Dale. He explains to her how it was important to remember where one came from, as it allowed you to have a greater understanding of the world. Her granny had come in then and told her stories of her 'Adad's first attempts at forging and agreed to show her how to engrave her own daggers. She was a little young to be using the forge just yet, but there was nothing wrong with a little knife practice, even if her Ma disagreed on the matter.

 

It did her good to see the room again. It smelt like home and family, the warmth of the fire filling her up inside. Without really thinking about it, she began to go about gathering tools and metals to create... something. She wasn't sure what yet though, that was for the metal to decide, as her Granny would say.

 

"Curious." Said a deep voice that rumbled through her like an avalanche. "I wasn't sure what you'd be like."

 

Kendra turned round to see who had spoken and spotted a figure sitting at the table. She'd not noticed them before and she wondered if they'd been there the whole time or if they’d just arrived. She often lost herself when working the forge, same as all artisans, so it wasn't impossible and yet...

 

"You see, I've not had to deal with one of you before."

 

"Well firstly, who are you? And secondly, what do you mean by 'one of you'?" Kendra folded her arms and glared at the figure. They seemed to be about the size of an average man, but with the proportions of a dwarf. And that voice... it felt at once comforting and terrifying.

 

"Normally I would say I was your maker but that is up for discussion it would seem. Which I suppose answers both your questions, Kendra Half-Dwarf."

 

Kendra froze. "You're, you're Mahal? Mahal himself?"

 

"Or Äule if you prefer. My wife prefers it but then she has always disagreed with whatever it is people usually do." He shrugged and took a sip of a tankard Kendra was certain had not been there earlier.

 

"Do you come and welcome everyone into the halls like this then? The stories never spoke of it like that..."

 

"And what do the stories say?"

 

"That you awaken into the halls fully formed and are created by your family. Then you enter into the rooms Mahal has set aside for us and...wait? Craft and celebrate and just, wait for it to all begin again." She took a seat next to him, unafraid of their creator who had always shown kindness to his children. "Is that what's happening? Is the waiting over already?"

 

"No." Said Mahal casually. "Not quite. We've still many years left until that happens. I just wasn't sure about  _ you _ ."

 

"About me?"

 

"Whether you belonged here or not."

 

Kendra blinked at him. Of course she belonged in his halls! She was the Queen of Erebor! A direct descendant of Durin himself; her line could be traced back and back through all the most noble families in the kingdom of the dwarves! Plus she was the granddaughter of Bard the Dragon Slayer, if that did not qualify her for a place in the-- and then it hit her. He didn't think she belonged because of the Men in her bloodline. Same as so many others back on Arda. She felt her hands grow into fists as she raised herself up off of the chair and attempted to tower over their maker, a failure of an effort because he just grew larger.

 

"You think me illegitimate because of my mother! You think she was not worthy to marry into the Durin bloodline! What words will you spit at me now? Half-forged? Rotten-Clay? Broken-Stone?"

 

"Yes." Was his response. Cool and simple, yet Kendra felt his words scorch her. Her own god saw her as a mistake. As something not worthy of his care. Before the thought would have cut her deep, but she was dead now; and the dead do not go down without a fight. If he didn't want to admit to being her creator than that was fine, she'd never have wanted a maker who could not accept her for who she was.

 

"I am not half anything." She declared, squaring her shoulders. "My Father was King Fíli of Erebor, my Mother the First Lady of Dale. I am the child of both man and dwarf and that does not make me simply half-formed version of either. I am both at once and I am whole and I will not--" she began to shout "--put up with this kind of bollocks in the afterlife! You wish to punish me for my existence, then go ahead! I am proud of who I am. I am proud of my Mother. Now take me to my family, or face the consequences."

 

"You're threatening me? Even now you would threaten your God if it meant seeing your family?"

 

"Of fucking course!" She snapped crossing her arms and glaring at the Valar with a look that could melt steel.

 

"Well then. I guess that proves it, you are one of mine. Come this way, Queen Kendra Under the Mountain." 

 

The figure rose again and opened the door that she had come in through, except now it lead into a high ceilinged room, with stone pillars keeping it upright and the bright glow of torches lighting it up around her. She caught a sight of the figures waiting at a long stone table, a feast laid out greater than any Kendra’d seen before. She took an uncertain step towards them before she found herself running flat out to greet them. Her father, her uncles, her granny and so many more besides! Family she'd never even had a chance to meet, all smiling and waving and drinking to her name.

 

She ran into her father's outstretched arms and nuzzled her nose into the crook of his neck just as she had when she was a child. He patted her on the back and squeezed her tight.

 

"It's good to see you my little Saphire." He whispered into her ear. "I was so worried about you but you've done so well. I'm so proud of you, you just need to be brave one last time."

 

Wait, what did he mean brave?

 

She took a step back and looked up at him in confusion. Looked up... Her 'Adad had always been shorter than her... She was a good head higher than him, same as her mother. She ran a hand up to her face and felt the hair there as thick and bushy as Stoneheim's. She grabbed frantically at her ears, her nose, her cheeks... No. No this couldn't be. No. No. No, not after all she'd been through...

 

"I'm sorry my love." Said her Father, reaching out to hold her hand. "I am so sorry."

 

She rushed to the table to grab a metal plate, frantically shoving the food off of it and wiping it with her sleeve to get a look at her reflection.

 

Except it wasn't hers, not the way she knew it to be. The face was rounded, the features large, the hair thick and bushy. Any trace or her mother had been obliterated from her appearance. The eyes were Durin. The nose was Durin. The ears were Durin. Even her colouring had been changed so as it resembled her father's more than her mother's!

 

There were tears in the eyes that weren't her own.

 

"I know Darling, I know." Said her grandmother coming up to place a hand round her shoulder-- something she'd not been able to do since she turned thirty.

 

"Why would he... I thought he accepted that I was, this isn't... Where's Ma?" She suddenly cried, looking around for the face she had longed to see above all others. She'd only been fifty when Sigrid had died, barely of age and left with two siblings to care for. Although at least she had the help of a whole kingdom, compared to when her mother had been in the same situation and had nobody. 

 

"They don't allow men into the halls." Explained he father gently. "But I can show her to you if you would like?"

 

Kendra nodded, biting back tears. She would not cry. This was meant to be a happy time for them all. She would be seeing her mother again. Surely that would be enough for now?

 

Fíli took her to a crystal window which looked out onto a lake, similar to that in Esgaroth. There had been a sentinel on duty there but as it caught sight of them, it simply rolled its eyes and strolled off down the corridor muttering in archaic Khuzdul.

 

Nervously, Kendra approached the window and stared out of it. She couldn't see anyone. Just an empty field and a still lake.

 

"Just wait. She knows you're here." Smiled her father, grasping a hold of her shoulders. Sure enough, a group of people came up across the horizon and began to run down towards her. She could not hear them even though she could tell they were making a racket.

 

"No communication, just sight." Fíli reminded her. "I know, I know. I'm angry too, but I've tried everything. We just need to wait."

 

Soon everyone had gathered, and Kendra had never seen so many of her family in one place before! Could that tall man at the back really be her Grandfather? With shoulder length grey hair and a smirk just like hers. Surely Auntie Tilda had never been that short? And Uncle Bain, looking alive and well with no trace of the sceptic battle wounds that had killed him. Behind them all, grinning as brightly as the sun, was a woman with the same blonde hair she had, no, that she  _ had _ had before Mahal played his dirty tricks. This woman was so much younger than the rest of them, with only the slightest suggestion of a wrinkle around her bright blue eyes.

 

Could that possibly be the Kendra she was named for? Her Grandmother who not even her own aunt had met, whom she'd only been told a few meagre stories about. She longed to hear all the tales she had within her, but of course Mahal could not have allowed something as simple as talking with her family. Not when they were  _ only _ men. She felt bile rise up in her once more, and she wanted to go and spit and shout and scratch the eyes out of the Valar who'd created them.

 

But then she spotted her. The face she longed to see most in the world. Looking so much older than any of them by far, but smiling the hardest. Her mother. Mithril hair and rain coloured eyes. Her grin as familiar and real to her as her own.

 

Kendra worried that she might not be recognised, that her dwarvish traits had overpowered her and she'd be lost to the mind of her mother forever more. But this was not the case, Sigrid's hand came up to the glass and Kendra put hers on top of it. Her Da stood by her side, smiling sadly.

 

"See. They remember you. They're your family still. They’re in your blood not in your face. Even Mahal can't change that."

 

"No." Sniffed Kendra. "But he can fuckin’ pay for it."

 

One day her siblings would join her here. Then her children and her children’s children and so on for generations. Then Mahal would see what a bunch of Mis-forged Mongrels could do.

**Author's Note:**

> Amlâkazad - Half Dwarf - taken from the same logic as "Amlâkfund" (Half-elf)


End file.
